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“Then put another sweater on. I can’t get any more naked than this.” He rubs his bare chest.
“It’s not that hot.” I want to say more. But every time I want to stand up for myself, my goddamn conditioning kicks in, and all these years of smiling and nodding and tucking my hair behind my ear and being a good girl have created a plexiglass filter between my brain and mouth.
“It is. But it’s also expensive to run the heat this high all the time. It’s winter, Nova.” The lighthearted tone is gone, his own posture becoming defensive.
“How much is the heating bill?” I open the cupboard and grab two mugs, slamming them down on the counter, my arms shaking in frustration.
“That’s not important.”
“How much, Zeke? Because I’ll pay for it. I’ll pay whatever it costs. I just want to be comfortable.” I’ve never raised my voice to him before, and he recoils at my words, his defences reinforced in his posture and the crinkled frown on his face.
“How is it that easy for you?” He flippantly gestures with his hand, filled with judgment.
“What?” I tighten my sweater around my body, knowing I’ve exposed myself in some way.
“The way you talk about money. You’re loaded. I’ve gathered that, but sometimes the way you talk….” He steps closer, and I lock onto his gaze, tightening my posture.
“What do you mean, the way I talk?” I cross my arms, and we’re in a standoff in the kitchen. A full-blown argument is brewing, and it sets off every alarm in my body.
“‘Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it. I don’t need you to support me. I can pay my way.’” He’s mocking me, his eyes burning with frustration.
This is a side of him, of his defensive humour, that I’m not here for at all. By the way my mouth hangs open and my heart rattles its cage with unpracticed anger, I can tell that I’m entering territory I’m not familiar with.
“You just replaced your phone with a brand fucking new one, and you didn’t even blink.” He adds, towering over me, and it sets my limbs shaking.
“What does my phone have to do with this?” The urge to lash out rears up and I pull my shoulders back, opening my arms to invite all of it in. If he wants to fight, I’ll fight. The burning, rolling tension of the last few months is thrashing, ready to be unleashed.
“Twenty-five-hundred-dollar phone with case. And nothing. Not a single reaction from you. The Benz. The shopping in Morleau after we met the doctor. Swiping the credit card like it’s free money. How rich are you, anyway?”
“It’s none of your business.” The bubble bursts with one simple statement and all the layers of judgment that come with it. He’s finally looking at me the way I’m used to being looked at. Spoiled. Little. Rich girl.
Zeke twists himself into a desperately frustrated ball of tense muscle. “Everything about you is none of my fucking business.”
“Don’t you dare turn into a man on me right now. My financial situation has no bearing on your masculinity.” I step into him, pointing at him, ready to let the judgment wash through me. Because if he wants to stereotype me, I can make it go both ways.
He scoffs. “Right, because I’m just a poor, backcountry, blue-collar boy. When have I ever given you the impression that I need to provide for you to feel like a man? Why are you trying to vilify me right now, Nova?”
I bite my lip, tears welling in my eyes.
“Because I’m pretty sure the kind of man I’ve been is one that goes to doctor’s appointments and stands up for you to his mother and busts his goddamn ass every fucking day to be sensitive and compassionate to you while you’re down here doing nothing but being secretive.”
“You want a cookie for doing the bare minimum of being a decent man?” I mutter, folding my arms across my body again because that’s all I have. He’s kicked my anger out at the knees, and I’m left with this desperate grip on my lies.
“I want you to fucking tell me the truth about you, Nova.” He yells, throwing his arms wide and then gripping his head, bending over as if to keep in his emotions. He continues with his voice getting steadily higher and disbelieving. “You want to talk about bare minimum right now?”
I turn my back on him so I’m facing the counter again, the heat still blowing on my feet from the floor vent. My chest thunders, and my head aches. With trembling hands, I pour the coffee into a mug. I slam it down on the edge of the island, and Zeke flinches.
“I made you coffee,” I hiss and storm past him to my room, pausing in the doorway.
I can’t look him in the eye because I know he’s right. All these little fires that spring up around me can be contained in secret, but as they grow and bleed into each other, they’re getting bigger. Unmanageable. If I don’t tell him the truth soon, it’ll be a damn inferno.
The smoke of my own lies is strangling me. I am trapped in every direction. Every choice sends through flames.
Short of taking off or hiding in this room forever, I don’t know what else to do.
The thought of jumping in my van and heading East flashes for only a moment because I’d never do it. If there was no baby, yes. I’d be so fucking gone from his prying eyes and sincere heart. I cup my belly and curl up around it, tears slipping from my nose.
I turn around to close my door, but he’s standing right there on the threshold.
“I have never questioned you, Nova,” he whispers. “Don’t you think that’s worth anything?”
He waits for a long time, but I can’t answer him. I don’t know how. He gives a short nod as if my silence gave him the answer he needed, and he disappears to his room.
Moments later, he’s dressed and out the front door without so much as a glance my way. I feel the loss of him, the emptiness, not only in the apartment but also in my heart.
I swipe my phone off the counter and dial the only person I know of who can pull me through this.
